The Heat and The Cool
by Ze Cheshire Cat
Summary: It's not good to smoke, he told her and in a joking reply she asked if he was a doctor. He was. I know its bad, but sometimes it can help. HatoriUo.


_**The Heat and The Cool**_

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A cute fanfic I wrote about HatorixUotani of Furuba. Hope you like.

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It was fairly hot. Even though the sun had lowered itself for the night, the humidity still clung within the air like a persistent child. It was a sadistic child who gripped an innocent creature by the throat and throttled it with it's superior strength that not even a breeze could beat off. The plaster wall was hot against her back. The cement below her was hot on her ass. The faint streaks of orange sky were hot on her bare thighs.

There was a pink tinge on her knees, hinting of the burning ache that she would receive tomorrow. Her cut-off jeans seemed to be of little protection. However, it was far too hot to wear any type of jeans. She wore a simple gray tank with these shorts and was rewarded with a similar sunburn upon her arms. What an excellent trade-off... Be miserable in heat and burn or be an less miserable, but still miserable, and not burn? Excellent, note: high risk of sarcasm; take it as you will.

An arm pulled away from her side, resulting in a sticky mess of sweat followed by a groan, and reached up to remove a half-smoked cigarette. Her fingers cradled the cancer stick in between her first two fingers. Holding it away from her, she flicked the butt with her thumb as to sprinkle ash from its tip. She sighed, releasing a mouthful of gray smoke. The breathe spread out once departed from her lips. The coiling smoke drifted outwards, thinning slowly while it spread out to grain a greater distance apart, and eventually faded into nothing. The cigarette was returned to her lips to repeat this lung-killing, cancer-inducing, teeth-yellowing, breathe-smogging process.

Bronze hues flicked towards the watch that ticked against her wrist. It read twenty 'till nine. She still had a while to wait. Her head tilted back and dropped back onto a mess of matted hair and warm wall-siding. With her face tilting upwards, the sweat that had dribbled on her brow began to spill down the sides of her temples. These large droplets raced down her cheeks, sometimes gathering fellow sweat sprinkles to form a larger drop, thus gaining speed as to beat its neighboring sweat. The quickest ones plopped upon her shoulder and continued the race down her backside only to be absorbed within the cotton of her shirt. Finally irritated with the sticky moist on her face, she lifted an arm to wipe it across her brow. Her fingers pressed her bangs up into a sticky mess that tilted the cigarette off balance. Sprinkles of ash fell down, snowing onto her chest. She winced, inhaling a sharp breath that whistled throughout her teeth. "Shit!" Her palms immediately began to pat at the burnt flesh, waving the cigarette around in a wild, careless fashion.

A soft chuckle caused her to look up, her head jerking back so quickly that it smacked against the plaster behind her. She winced again, sucking in a breathe against the new pain. With one eye squinting close, she peered up at the figure who stood before her. Her mouth opened to retort a nasty reply, but as she noticed him, each word simply fell silent. Rather than snarling, she merely gaped up at the man. The first thing that grabbed her attention, and the main reason for her silence, was his attire. Here she had been sitting for almost an hour in cut-offs and a tank, complaining about this wretched heat while he... he was dressed in fancy slacks, a white dress shirt with a blue tie, and a long-sleeved coat. Not only did this guy wear a suit, a suit for Christ's sake! But this suit just had to be the typical suit color. It was black. How could this guy manage to wear such an outfit at this time of year?

"It's not good to smoke." He stated simply. Her eyes squinted to view his face, finding the dim sunbeams and his overgrown bangs were obstructing at least half of his face. His voice was suprising to her for although he had a calm exterior, he was particularly tall and there were traces of a worn-down guy.. possibly even a insomniac that caused his eyes to darken. His voice was soft spoken, precise with each syllable. He was clean-cut... and laughing at her, an ex-(okay, maybe not ex) yankee? The thought would have made her grimace, but for some reason she couldn't quite pull herself from looking away at his coal-colored hues.

The man straighted up slightly and glanced off towards the building. "It causes cancer and detoriates your lungs. The fumes dampen your sense of smell and taste, all the while destroying your brain cells. Even second-hand smoke can mentally cripple a person." He spoke soflty, still not looking at her. A blonde brow perked upwards in inquiry and she responded, "What are you, some kind of doctor?" It was meant to be a casual comeback, but the curt nod she recieved broke her faint grin. "Indeed I am." His eyes trailed back to her and merely stared at her face, rather than giving an elevator-look that she was used to recieving from people of his class. Dumfoundedly, she replied with a stupified "Oh". Once more he nodded, the eyes pulling away from her. Finally she sighed and smothered the cigarette remains into the sidewalk beside her. "I know it's bad, but sometimes it can help." She told him softly before quickly adding, "It relieves stress."

He shifted slightly, his body turning to face her fully. As he did this, his bangs swept back to lick at his ear and she capture a glance of his full face. His other eye seemed rather dull, not as sharp and inky as the first. The glance was only fleeting, for his bangs quickly fell back in place. "Self detorioration is never a form of help." Her focus snapped, reverting from the close up of his eyes to examine him entire profile. She could barely register his words, but once she did, her lips popped open in a silent gasp. "I know that..." she told him soflty. He watched her, and she wondered what he might say next, but he did not.

So, she continued to sit and ponder. Why was he here? Just who was this odd man? He spoke of being a doctor, but didn't happen to be one of the many that she had met over the years. And she had visited many doctors, many many physicians. Within a futile search to cure her cursed allergies, she met quite the lot of medical paralegals. Yet even so, he had never been one of them. Just why did this strange doctor appear from nowhere at all?

"I assume that you are waiting for someone." He stroke a new conversation; one in which she was grateful for. "Yeah, I have a friend who works in there. Her name's Tohru." Blinking in a curious fashion, she gazed up at this man with puzzlement. Why she had given out Tohru's name she did not know, but it was greatly confusing. Her eyes were boring holes into her sneakers, cursing her stupidity without knowing why, when his tone changed slightly to represent a feeling of awknowledgment. "Tohru?"

Her head tilted backwards, releasing the glare upon her shoes for a moment. "Yeah. What about you? Picking up a friend?" The man watched her intently, his eyes seeming to scan her face for something. She then suddenly prayed that there was no leftovers of mayonaisse on her face from her earlier brunch. "I've come to pick up a relative. He spends time here." She nodded, eyes intent on the hue that was curtained by his bangs. It gave him a mysterious... a mysterious something. While she fumbled for the correct term, she was pretty sure that Hana could helpfully supply her with whatever sixth-sensse nonsense that pertained here. Alas, Hana was at home with her younger, clone-like sibling Megumi.

"Oh, yeah? That's pretty nice of you, I guess." She complimented him. He nodded. His attention strayed from her and silence embraced the two with a magnetic charging, quite similar to what Hanajima supposedly experienced, that was flooded with curiousity. Neither of them tried to start a conversation this time, finding that they had no more to say to one another. Then there was the squealing of ancient hinges as the door swung open. The oven-like steel pressed against her leg and she toppled over in an attempt ot remove her leg from the sudden impact. Spontaneously, a gust of unknown powder gusted through the air in the form of a large cloud of white.

Her allergies immediantly kicked in. Her hand clamped over her mouth, trying to escape whatever the white chemical had been. Her chest heaved with her coughing and she rasped hoarsly. The door slammed shut and a figure in a tight skirt stumbled outside with a handful of large boxes. The women scurried along with her items, not even bothering to take a moment out of her schedule to apologize. Blonde brows knitted together in frustration at the annoyance, but failed to critisize through her hacking. And then... a hand pushed her own away and slipped a mask over her mouth. There was a moment of a fleeting caress from his hand just before she noticed the hugging on the back of her head, and soft cotton pressed against her lips. Staring up at him, she examined the doctor who had just supplied her with a handy medical mask.

Her chest heaved slightly, gaining more and more secure with the adjustment of breathing. She then gazed up at him, a smile forming beneath the mask. "Thanks a lot." He nodded slightly and returned to his feet. He held out a hand and, expecting a handshake, she took it and almost fell when he pulled her to her feet. "Umm... my name's Uo." She gazed up at him, only now noticing how tall he really was. Tall, slender, nice but odd-timing choice of clothing, and suspicious doctor. Yes, great combination. "My name is Hatori." She smiled up at him and nodded. "Nice to meet you." He did not smile, she just noticed, but the corners of his lips only slightly turned upwards. "The pleasure is mine."

A new silence unfolded, capturing them both in one another's gaze. Her fingers fidgeted with the frayed bottoms of her shorts. She swallowed a lump in her throat, continuing to peer up at the elder, but still handsome... male. Her lips parted, wanting to speak further but not quite sure what to say. It was a common mistake for her, and usually whenever she spoke without thought it became something utterly stupid. Thankfully she was saved, as the same door swung open. Uo quickly stepped backwards, distancing herself from Hatori. On the other side of the door came a coquettish giggle and she paled. With a flounce of pink fabric, a slender child came bouncing out of the building. Blonde hair curled up against his angel-winged cap, just one of the obtuse accessories of his unique wardrobe. The half-German boy gazed up at Hatori and grinned a chesmire cat smile.

Peering down at the child, he gave a satisfied nod before turning. His gaze flicked towards the yankee and gave a slight dip of his head as a farewell. He then turned, going along his merry way with the hyperactive child skipping along beside him. This is what she last saw, her bronze hues stretching wide open while her lips were shaped as a frozen "o", paralyzed by the thought. Since that boy was... 'Mo- Momiji Sohma?!' Was it possible that the doctor was also a Sohma? Had she been talking to a Sohma this whole time?!

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I wrote this a long, long, long time ago... about two years. I just mangaged to stumble upon in it my old discarded LiveJournal so here it is.

Please review, but no pairing flames.


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